Red Sunflower of Mugenkan
by In The Beginning
Summary: "My dream is to live in a place filled with sunflowers... It's hopeless, I know." But he doesn't see the smile on her face. IvanYuuka
1. Chapter 1

(Yuuka © ZUN

Russia/Ivan © Hidekaz Himaruya)

* * *

Red Sunflower of Mugenkan

Chapter One

* * *

He thought that if he went for a walk, he could see the first signs of spring buried somewhere amidst the snow.

No such luck for Ivan, however; the more he walks, the more he sees the cold white sheet of winter still covering the land.

He frowns a little, rubbing his hands together. Even with his thick gloves on, he feels the cold stealing the warmth from his very fingers. Even out of wartimes General Winter had always been cruel, but this seems a bit absurd, even to Ivan. For a moment, he is tempted to curse the cold, but remembers what happened the last time he did that; 1807 was not a fond memory in his mind.

A sharp blast of wind cuts through his coat, chilling him to the core. There is no spring here; it may be March, but Russia — the nation — is still under siege from the snow.

With a heavy sigh, Ivan turns around. The falling snow has covered his tracks, but he knows the way back home.

___Скоро наступит весна_, he tells himself, walking back home. ___А за ней и лето_…

He lets a small smile creep onto his face—

"_Oof!_"

Something heavy crashes into Ivan from above, knocking him face-first into the snow.

"_Ой!_" he curses, feeling the weight of something resting on his back and pinning him down. "___Что, черт возьми? Отвали от меня—_"

"Ow…"

Ivan feels the weight slide off his back.

"Oh… _Kore ga kotonatte iru_," a female voice murmurs in Japanese. "_Koko wa doko_…?"

The Russian sits up, turning to look at his "attacker."

"___Что за ...?_"

* * *

"Are you sure you are not cold?"

Upon learning that they share English as a common language communication between them became that much easier.

"I'm fine, thank you. I can… tolerate the cold."

Ivan shrugs his shoulders, turning his gaze back forward.

The short, green-haired woman walking beside him still has her flowery umbrella resting over her shoulder.

"You are stronger than I am, then," the man finally admits, reaching up to pull the scarf so that it covers more of his face — anything to keep the cold away will help. "This is my home, and even I cannot stand this cold for very long. But you fall out of the sky like snow, dressed in clothes for summer, and you say that you are fine. You amaze me, _чужеземец_."

The woman bristles slightly, ignoring the sharp wind as her eyes flash momentarily.

"That word… what does it mean?" she asks, smiling lightly.

"Mm? Oh, you do not know Russian? It is…"

Ivan has to think for a moment before the English word comes back to him.

"Stranger. _Da,_ that's it. Not from here. You _are_ not from here, are you?"

His companion's smile grows wistful; she uses her left hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"No, I'm not. My home is… very far from here," she admits, closing her red eyes for a moment. "I'm… not entirely sure how I was removed from it, but I know that there is no going back for me. Not that it's even possible."

She twirls her umbrella, shaking the snow that has gathered on it off.

"It's probably better for me this way, anyways," the woman continues, opening her eyes again and looking up at Ivan. "It was nice being respected, but it was a respect born from fear. Nobody would talk to me because of the rumors. It was very… lonely, I guess you would call it."

The tall nation fixes his gaze straight ahead.

Something cold settles in his heart.

"___Я знаю, что вы имеете в виду_. That feeling… I know it very well, too," he mutters, shivering not from the chill of the wind but from the harshness of his memories. "Being avoided and feared…"

Silence falls between them as they continue walking through the snow.

"How far until we arrive at this home of yours?" the woman finally asks, brushing off the snow that rests on her exposed hands.

"It is not much farther," Ivan replies, looking down at the woman again. "You are sure you're not cold?"

"_Yes,_" the woman answers, an underlying current of frustration that sends a slight chill down his spine.

"_Мне жаль_. I did not mean to offend you," he apologizes, suddenly feeling like he often does around Belarus.

"…no, it is not your fault," the woman shakes her head, sighing, her voice no longer sharp. "I'm sorry. I can _tolerate_ the cold, but it makes me very… tired. I am not at my best when I'm tired. When we arrive, I would like to sleep, if that's fine."

"_Nyet,_ I do not mind. I do not often have guests, but you are welcome to stay as long as you wish, _Мисс…_"

After struggling to recall it, Ivan realizes that he never asked the woman her name.

"I do not believe I got your name," he says, a slightly apologetic tone to his words.

"Ah, yes. I didn't introduce myself after I fell on you, did I?" the green-haired woman laughs lightly. "My name is Yuuka. Yuuka Kazami."

"Yuuka," Ivan repeats, trying to burn at least the first name into his memory. "Yuuka… I am Ivan Braginsky. It is very nice to meet you."

For perhaps the first time since they've met, Yuuka's smile is genuine.

"I think," she murmurs, "that the feeling is mutual."

The rest of their now-short walk is held in silence.

* * *

Translation Notes**(fixed with the help of my Russian friend - thank you sooo much)**:

___Скоро наступит весна_ — Soon it will be spring

___А за ней и лето_ — And then summer will follow

___Что, черт возьми? Отвали от меня_! — What the hell? Get off of me!

_Kore ga kotonatte iru. Koko wa doko? _- This is different. Where am I?

___Что за_ – What on earth

_Я знаю, что вы имеете в виду_ — I know what you mean

_Мне жаль_ — I'm sorry

_Мисс_ — Ms.

**Thank you MG-1 for catching the inconsistency. This is why I should not post at 1 AM**

Historical Notes:

1807 – the Battle of Eylau, between Napoleanic France and Russia in early February. It was a bloody, indecisive battle. Despite the fact that the winter of 1807 was colder than that of 1812, it is the latter that gets more recognition, mostly because Napolean actually lost in 1812.

If Russia and Yuuka are supposed to be absolutely perfect for each other, how come there aren't more stories of the two? Not that there's actually going to be any serious IvanxYuuka here. Maybe. I haven't quite decided yet.

Future chapters are unlikely to have _nearly_ this much Russian, but seeing as it's quite unlikely that Russia would speak to himself in English…

**Edit:** So I told my Russian friend about this fanfic, sort of... And she offered to help me with the Russian. She is quite an amazing person, and hopefully Google Translate won't have made too much of a fool out of me.

_Also_ also, I swear Yuuka did not just fall through a plothole onto Ivan. Will be explained later.

Please review!)


	2. Chapter 2

(Yuuka Kazami © ZUN

Ivan Braginsky/Russia, Natalya/Belarus © Hidekaz Himaruya)

* * *

Red Sunflower of Mugenkan

Chapter Two

* * *

He blinks.

This is… He didn't think…

He's never _seen_ so many sunflowers in the snow.

The letter that had been slipped through his bedroom window (on the second floor — he's still confused how it got there) is still in his hands; he has yet to read it, beyond the almost-cryptic scribble on the back of the envelope.

_Посмотри за окно_. _"Look outside."_ Well, he certainly had, and certainly hadn't been expecting… _this._

Shaking his head, Ivan finally unfolds the letter itself, holding it tightly so that the wind doesn't snatch it away as he reads.

_Милый Ваня, _

_Ты получил подсолнухи? Это всё для тебя, мой Ванечка…_

_Ah._ Well now, this explains… a lot.

Ivan is slightly dismayed that his little sister has resumed her (admittedly rather disturbing) attempts at seduction, though he's somewhat relieved that this time, it's just sunflowers. He's also a little perturbed that the letter isn't even in Belarusian, but instead in Russian.

He's more than a little confused about where she _got_ so many sunflowers, when nearly half of Russia is still covered in snow.

He pushes the question out of his mind, folding the letter back up and tucking it in his pocket. It isn't important to read it now; he already knows well over half of what the letter says anyways from past experience — sentiments along the lines of "I've been waiting so patiently" and "we will have such a happy family" and other such delusions. Right now, he has another, more pressing task at hand.

They may be from Natalya, but they're still sunflowers, and Ivan would rather not see them freeze to death on his doorstep.

* * *

"Hmm…"

After three long hours, Ivan is finally down to finding a place for the last sunflower plant.

For a little while, he had entertained the notion of just putting them all in the attic; out of sight, out of mind — and the more his sister is off his mind, the better. But even if they _are_ from Natalya, he can't bear the thought of just letting over a hundred sunflowers die in the attic.

Admittedly, he wonders if maybe it won't drive him a little insane to see reminders of his sister all over the place, but it's better than having to deal with a large dose of her madness at once. Besides, maybe he'll forget that they're from her before long, and just be happy to see the sunflowers.

With that thought in mind, he smiles, continuing to wander his home.

_Интересно, любит ли Юка подсолнухи…?_

The smile disappears suddenly as he remembers his guest.

It seems strange that he could have forgotten he even _had_ a guest. But it's been four days since she came, and Yuuka's never left her room — at least, not while he's been awake. A couple times already, he's walked right past the guestroom door, forgetting there was someone on the other side.

Ivan looks at the sunflower in his hands.

It wouldn't hurt to check on her, he finally decides. And besides, if she _does_ like sunflowers, then perhaps she will appreciate his gift.

* * *

It took ten minutes to remember exactly _where_ the guest room is, but he's finally found it again.

"_Доброе утро _— ah, good morning," Ivan announces, knocking lightly on the door with a gloved hand. "May I come in?"

After a few moments of silence, he reaches for the doorknob, quietly opening the door.

He blinks.

Granted, it's been a while since he was in here, but last time he checked, the bed had been against the wall by the window. Now, however, the large bed is pressed against the wall shared by the closet, next to the dresser and as far from the snow-covered window as it can be.

At least now he knows that Yuuka's still alive. The green-haired woman is lying on her side, facing the door; the blankets pulled up to her shoulders, a faint smile on her sleeping face.

Ivan smiles faintly himself, somewhat relieved to see her okay. Quietly, he walks over to the dresser, clearing a spot to place the sunflower plant.

"Mnh…?"

Startled, he freezes in place—

"_Sore wa…mada harudesu ka…?_"

Yuuka sleepily pulls the blankets up to her chin, rolling onto her back.

"_Haru ga kuru nodarou ka…?_" she mumbles, shifting a little before growing still and silent.

Ivan sighs quietly, relaxing and setting the sunflower plant upon the dresser.

The room seems a little brighter now; the tall man smiles, reaching up to stroke the bright yellow petals.

_Ane-san…_

Ivan freezes as a shrill voice whispers frantically in his ears.

_Tasukete, ane-san…_

_Что всё это значит? _he tries to call out, his voice failing him. _Кто вы такой?_

_Tasukete, ane-san…!_

Eyes wide with sudden fear, Ivan quickly leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

Only after he's walked halfway down the hall does he finally stop, looking over his shoulder to make sure he's not being followed.

He thought that nothing could scare him. But that _voice_… It still lingers in his mind. So high, so _frightened…_

_Ane-san…_

Ivan shakes his head, taking a deep breath.

He's being ridiculous, of course; there was nothing in there that could have talked to him. Well, except for Yuuka… But she was sleeping. And that wasn't her voice at all — not even close. And this wouldn't be the first time he's heard voices that have unnerved him, though this _is_ the first they've talked to him in another language.

Still, it's not _that_ uncommon, and the voice hasn't followed him out of the room…

Vaguely satisfied with his rationalization, and calmed by the peaceful silence around him, Ivan continues walking down the hall.

He doesn't notice the sunflowers in the hall turning to face him as he walks past.

* * *

**Translation notes, with the help of my Russian friend(Japanese may still not be right):**

"Look outside" — _Посмотри за окно_

"My dear Vanya, did you get my sunflowers? I got them just for you, my Vanya" — _Милый Ваня, Ты получил подсолнухи? Это всё для тебя, мой Ванечка._

"I wonder if Yuuka likes sunflowers" — _Интересно, любит ли Юка подсолнухи…?_

"Good morning" — _Доброе утро_

_Sore wa mada harudesu ka?_ — Is it spring yet?

_Haru ga kuru nodarou ka?_ — When will spring come?

_Tasukete, ane-san_ — Help, big sister

"What is this? Who are you?" — _Что всё это значит? Кто вы такой?_

Finals are over! I survived another semester!

The next chapter will have more Hetalia goings-on, and will hopefully take less than a month to type up. Either way, thank you for your patience.

Please review!)


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